Part 49 (1/2)
”You pretend to have some affection for your old playmate, but you do not trouble yourself to come to see her.”
”Indeed, you do me wrong.”
”Do you wrong! You prefer to gallivant about town with Comyn and Charles Fox, and with all those wild gentlemen who go to Brooks's. Nay, I have heard of your goings-on. I shall write to Mr. Carvel to-day, and advise him to send for you. And tell him that you won a thousand pounds in one night--”
”It was only seven hundred,” I interrupted sheepishly. I thought she smiled faintly.
And will probably lose twenty thousand before you have done. And I shall say to him that you have dared to make bold rebel speeches to a Lord of the Admiralty and to some of the King's supporters. I shall tell your grandfather you are disgracing him.”
”Rebel speeches!” I cried.
”Yes, rebel speeches at Almack's. Who ever heard of such a thing! No doubt I shall hear next of your going to a drawing-room and instructing his Majesty how to subdue the colonies. And then, sir, you will be sent to the Tower, and I shan't move a finger to get you out.”
”Who told you of this, Dolly?” I demanded.
”Mr. Fox, himself, for one. He thought it so good,--or so bad,--that he took me aside last night at Lady Tankerville's, asked me why I had let you out of Castle Yard, and told me I must manage to curb your tongue.
I replied that I had about as much influence with you as I have with Dr.
Franklin.”
I laughed.
”I saw Fox lead you off,” I said.
”Oh, you did, did you!” she retorted. ”But you never once came near me yourself, save when I chanced to meet you in the hall, tho' I was there a full three hours.”
”How could I!” I exclaimed. ”You were surrounded by prime ministers and amba.s.sadors, and Heaven knows how many other great people.”
”When you wish to do anything, Richard, you usually find a way.”
”Nay,” I answered, despairing, ”I can never explain anything to you, Dolly. Your tongue is too quick for mine.”
”Why didn't you go home with your captain?” she asked mockingly.
”Do you know why I stayed?”
”I suppose because you want to be a gay spark and taste of the pleasures of London. That is, what you men are pleased to call pleasures. I can think of no other season.”
”There is another,” I said desperately.
”Ah,” said Dolly. And in her old aggravating way she got up and stood in the window, looking out over the park. I rose and stood beside her, my very temples throbbing.
”We have no such springs at home,” she said. ”But oh, I wish I were at Wilmot House to-day!”
”There is another reason,” I repeated. My voice sounded far away, like that of another. I saw the colour come into her cheeks again, slowly.
The southwest wind, with a whiff of the channel salt in it, blew the curtains at our backs.
”You have a conscience, Richard,” she said gently, without turning. ”So few of us have.”